Are men in ships like us
Who rest and sleep into the nights?
Or like white fluffy sheep slowly flowing across the skies,
Even if a wind swept the sails?
Where and what we wouldn’t know
For the compass we have doesn’t show
When the sea like our minds calm will be
Of the troubles and toils from which we’ll be free
In the middle of it all, the desire,
The hope that at last the sight will be real
Sand-filled shore beyond this vast sea
If afloat we will be on that horizon
The dry land we’ll once again step on
Above, the moon is saying something
Much more of an old age adage
A truth that’s true
That even I in my years alive hasn’t changed,
The meaning of such men,
That all, like time, must pass on,
On to the stars above and beyond,
Changing shapes as they go, but still yet as clouds remain.